


who needs stars? (we've got a roof)

by fragile_like_china (orphan_account)



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, One Shot, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:13:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26392441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/fragile_like_china
Summary: Prince Logan needs to prepare for a ball. His etiquette tutor, Roman, is willing to give the clumsy prince some much-needed extra dance lessons.OR: This is all a big excuse to write soft!pining!Roman and soft!pining!Logan doing soft!pining!things, like dancing at midnight.
Relationships: Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders
Comments: 3
Kudos: 40





	who needs stars? (we've got a roof)

It’s nighttime in the kingdom. 

The room is artfully lit by both a fireplace and a half-moon in the window. The air is quiet but for a whispered _one two three, two two three_ and quiet footsteps _._ The stage is set for binary stars to collide.

“No, no!” Roman chides faux-sternly, trying to smother the embers of laughter building up in his gut. “Hand goes like _this,_ and when you want your partner to turn, you twist like _this.”_

He demonstrates, sliding his palm against Prince Logan’s, and then turns their hands so the prince can try it himself. And it’s not that Prince Logan’s hands are small or anything, it’s just that they’re… smooth. Soft, carefully calloused with long, deft fingers sporting what Roman is fairly certain are some fairly un-princely ink stains. Kind of cute. Roman can’t help but stare.

But he blinks that vision away. He’s not here to pine after Prince Logan’s _hands,_ he’s here to teach him to dance, which means he should be _paying attention._

“Like this?” Prince Logan asks. He does the little twist and Roman obligingly turns out.

“Excellent,” Roman praises. “We’ll make a lead out of you yet!”

Prince Logan half-smiles and Roman’s heart half-stops, but it’s cool, it’s fine, it’s all cool. 

Logan is a prince, and Roman is his tutor, so when Logan’s hand falls to Roman’s hip that’s because it’s proper positioning for a waltz, and when Roman’s hand squeezes the surprisingly well-muscled shoulder, that’s because Roman needs to remind Prince Logan to keep his gaze on his partner and not on their feet.

Prince Logan trips again, because of course the cleverest, handsomest, most eligible man in the kingdom is also a total klutz, and that’s where Roman calls it for the night.

“I fail to see where any of this is necessary,” Logan huffs. He pours himself another glass of water from the pitcher he had someone bring hours ago. Besides the table, the pitcher, the glasses, the chairs, this study is completely empty. Not even a servant to tend to him remains. 

Logan claims he had it cleared to minimize distractions and maximize space. Roman thinks it’s more because he hates being seen as less than perfect at anything, and refuses to dance in public until he can match those raised in this life step-for-step.

“I know that you know that’s a lie. Dancing is an important part of court etiquette, my prince!” Roman says. He grins dazzlingly and pretends this next part isn’t like pulling teeth. “How will you find a suitable wife without it?”

“A suitable wife,” Logan echoes, a strange look pulling his face downward.

“But don’t fret,” Roman’s quick to reassure. “I doubt that two left feet would be enough to keep you from marrying anyone you choose. A scholar, a linguist, an archer, and a prince? Without any flaws at all, you’d be too perfect to be approachable!”

And _wow that is a bit much, isn’t it?_ but it makes the corners of Logan’s royal blue eyes soften and his pretty, pink lips curl, so Roman smiles through the embarrassment.

“I appreciate your patience with me,” Logan says. “Perhaps with another week’s worth of lessons, there’s hope for my unfortunately asymmetrical feet?”

Another week. Right, just a week until the ball, where Logan will be expected to find a partner. Then there will be an appropriate time for courting, and for marriage, and maybe a long honeymoon in whatever foreign and glorious land Prince Logan’s chosen will hail from. By then, Roman’s lessons in royal etiquette will be made obsolete.

_Roman_ will be made obsolete.

Roman doesn’t care for it, but he mulls over this with the determination of a bull and steadily drains his cup. He is going to _think_ about it, and he is going to be _sad_ about it, and when he is done, the sadness will have faded enough that Roman can plaster on a smile and teach Logan more about the butterfly-and-spin.

“Would you like another?” Logan offers suddenly, already refilling Roman’s glass.

“Oh!” says Roman, touched. “Well, thank you, my prince, but really, it should be me serving you. Manners befitting status, remember?”

“Nonsense. We are friends, are we not?” says Logan, like it’s just some casual remark. Like a declaration of friendship doesn’t _mean_ anything. Like his kindness, freely given, isn’t a miracle.

It’s times like these Roman remembers that, for as well suited as Logan is for the role of studious second-born, Logan was not raised in the palace. Prince Janus, heir to the throne, would never think to serve a commoner like Roman, but Logan. Cool, considerate, kind of dorky Logan.

“... Are we friends?” Logan asks again. It takes Roman another beat before he realizes Logan’s taken his silence for hesitance. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have presumed--”

“Of course we’re friends!” he bursts before he can think any better of it. Interrupting the _prince,_ seriously, he must be out of his _mind--_

“Really?” breathes Logan. “Do you-- I mean, you shouldn’t feel pressured by me, or my blood status. I genuinely enjoy your company but do understand if you don’t feel the same. This is your job, and you have an obligation to me, so there’s a bit of a power imbalance--”

“No, I mean it,” Roman dares to interrupt again. He feels giddy. _Giddy!_ “You’re my favorite student, and I know I’m incredibly lucky to get this job at all, but I wouldn’t be teaching just anyone to dance at midnight. I like spending time with you! Too! I like spending time with you, too.”

“Right. Good!” Logan clears his throat and turns his face down into his own shoulder. “Good.”

“Good,” Roman says back.

“Good.”

They can probably go back and forth saying “good” for another hour or so, but they choose to instead quickly turn and look in different directions, sipping their water.

The grandfather clock in the hall chimes twelve. They startle like they’ve been caught doing something much worse than dancing and drinking water in awkward, happy silence.

“We’ll be seeing each other for a short review of your guest list around lunch, but, ah. Dancing. Same time tomorrow?” Roman asks. 

“Yeah,” says Logan. He’s quick to correct his accent, though. “Er, yes. Yes, same time tomorrow.”

Roman sets his glass on the tray and takes Logan’s. He should leave them on the floor in the hall, to be picked up in the morning. He’s got one foot out the door when Logan calls again, “May I ask you another favor?”

“Well, I’d hardly call friendship a favor,” Roman teases carefully. “But of course you may, Prince Logan.”

Logan makes a face and Roman feels he may have misstepped. His worries are soothed quickly, though, when Logan asks, “That. Could you call me just… Logan? No need for the title. Since we are friends.”

Roman feels like he’s walking on air. It’s stupid, stupid to feel so happy when he knows he’s Prince Logan’s friend and won’t be anything more in the end, but is that so bad? Or, no. Not Prince Logan. Just...

“... Logan,” Roman says, tasting it. 

It doesn’t feel as intense, as intimidating. _Prince Logan_ is calm and rational and the brightest mind in generations. _Logan_ is all of those things, plus a child born out of wedlock, discovered by his raven hair and blue eyes, the spitting image of the late king. _Logan_ is fiercely passionate, determined to prove himself worthy despite everyone already knowing it, and though he shed the dirt of an orphan in a trade port, he never shook off the compassion he had for the other beggars who’d treated him kindly. _Logan…_ Logan is the loveliest person Roman has ever seen. And he is _hopelessly_ out of his league.

“That is my name,” Logan smiles.

_Lovely._

“Goodnight, Logan,” Roman says, and it feels like _I love you._

“Goodnight, Roman,” Logan says, and it sounds like _goodbye._

But Roman doesn’t care for it. 

He sets the tray on the cold stone floor and makes his way to his room.

He’s going to be happy. Just for tonight. He’s going to cling to this feeling, fleeting thought it may be, hold this warmth and this light close to his chest. When he wakes in the morning, the last dregs of it will feel _wonderful,_ and when it is done, it will hurt enough that Roman will remember not to hope.

But that is for tomorrow. Tonight, Roman will remember how to dream.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from the song "Nothing" by Bruno Major. Give it a listen, it really completes the Vibe I was going for.
> 
> This baby sat in my drafts for ages, so I figured I'd publish it now that I've gotten through my first round of exams. I don't know if I'll continue it, but I might if there's interest! Be safe, be kind, I love you!


End file.
